Went to my first poker night on the weekend.

I suck a whole lot at poker. Thank god we were playing penny ante, or I would've lost more than $2.48.

Heh.

There's a lot of mystique to the 'poker night'. The mental image is of four guys around a round, green-felted table, with a single covered light lighting the scene from overhead. There are cigars, and tense faces, and much serious deliberation. If there is any music at all, it is low, bluesy stuff coming from another room.

Real life just isn't the same.

I'm glad that no one was smoking, because Paul and Max smoke these nasty Russian cigarettes that smell like ass. Sun-ripened, slow-dried, crumbled, packed and burnt ass. Yuck.

The table we played on was a nice, glass-topped dining table. But it takes away from the whole 'manly' image when the guys have to wipe the table down with Windex before sitting down to play.

Then we had to keep stopping play while Matt would fuss with the computer to try to clean up the Shoutcast feed we were listening to from a Moscow radio station. Mmm. Top 40 Europop.

Max would stop to consult the little cheat sheet of 'rank of hands' before making each bet. Generally if he bet anything, we all folded. Max didn't do so well last night.

And every time I tried to put on my poker face, I'd start giggling.

Don't get me wrong, because I had a lot of fun. There is something cool about the snap of the cards being shuffled, about the sneaky looks darting from person to person, and the tinkle of chips being dropped onto the pot in the middle of the table.

Plus $2.48 is pretty cheap for a night with 'the boys'.

Lisa makes me laugh. It's one of the reasons I love her.

I've been using the derogatory phrase 'Sucks Ass' a lot lately, as in, "That driver who just cut me off Sucks Ass!" or "Boy, 'That 80's Show' sure Sucks Ass, doesn't it?"

Lisa, in her eternally helpful manner, has added a sound effect to the whole nonsense. So whenever I say 'Sucks Ass', she grins, balls up her fist, and sucks loudly on the, ahem, hole formed there. It's a squeaky noise somewhere between a fake smooch and a duck call. It cracks me up every time.

I shouldn't mention this next bit, but I can't resist. Sunday night, we're rushing around to get to the Pet Store's monthly social night, which is a few rounds of bowling. Lisa is finishing getting dressed, and asks me to look up the address for the bowling alley in the phone book.

So I pick up the Yellow Pages and start thumbing through it. Lisa comes by, all hurried and hassled, and helpfully adds, "It's under 'Bowling'".

Short pause. "Thanks, babe! I had been looking under 'Watch Repair'!"

"SHUT UP!"

Hee. For the next half hour, our conversation went like: "It's under BOWLING!" "SHUT UP!" "Hee hee hee..."

She's my girl.

Which, of course, brings us to Valentine's Day.

Once again, I publicly state that I am a fan of Valentine's Day. I understand this little tradition has its detractors, but I still like it. The froofy hearts, the mushy cards, the stuffed toys holding little 'I LUV YOU' signs... It's all good.

For those who dislike the commercial aspects, you can be pleased that Lisa and I are not buying anything for each other this year. Not that we really planned it that way, finances being how they are, but it's working out nicely. We shared a short breakfast in bed this morning, and I'm making us a special dinner Saturday night. If Lisa has anything planned, she hasn't told me yet, but it's no big deal. We're coming up on the end of our sixth year together, and I'm just happy she's still putting up with me.

She is my love, and she makes me happy. That's all I want for Valentine's Day.

Out of the woodwork: Had another old friend pop up in the last couple weeks. My old high school friend Daphne found me on GradFinder and sent me an email. (Hiya Daphne!)

I LOVE hearing from old high school friends. I'm a rotten, rotten pen pal (email or otherwise), and I'm hopeless about keeping up on emails or phone calls, or setting lunch dates. But I'm always here, and you can reach me here and I always want to hear from you. This goes for Daphne, Mark, Dave, Billy, Rhonda, Kelly and any others of you who may be lurking or just finding me here. Even if some of you won't join the notify list.

And all of you other readers, old friends and new, write me, call me, talk to me, whatever. I love the whole lot of you, and am glad you are here reading me.

Happy Love Day!

One Year Minus A Day Ago Today: I'll only be a minute - where Lisa and I are recovering from a really nasty bug. And I say very similar things about Valentine's Day. Huh.

Mom Rating: 2 out of 5. Not that Mom won't like this entry, I'm sure she's wondering why she wasn't invited to play poker. Her new teeth are settling in nicely though.

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Take me home, big fella